


Bounce with the Devil

by YomiNoKura



Series: Overwatch Hell [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, mistakerino
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9087340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YomiNoKura/pseuds/YomiNoKura
Summary: Unfortunately, you get exposed by Mercy for your new hobby, but it's a great time for you basically seduce your goddamn boss on a mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This makes no sense!!! I've only worked on this for 3 hours. I might write another chapter for some nasty smut but that'll be later.
> 
> [The routine is basically Bora's "Seductive Witch" routine from the show Hit the Stage.]

It was your bright idea to start practicing a dance routine in your spare time, past all your training and mission time. 

You secretly practiced in the early hours of the morning, music playing softly as you practiced over and over. Regardless about how careful you were to keep your secret practicing under wraps, word got out after Mercy stumbled on you walking out of the training gym one night, sweating with your phone in hand. You didn’t say anything to her, but quickly realized what you were doing.

Your dancing was just for kicks to keep you occupied, kind of like D.Va’s gaming. But to Winston it increases your value within espionage missions, as a sort of distraction.

Which led you here.

“Dancers wear this?” you mumble as you pull at your pleather leotard, with the fabric snapping back to hugging your body as you let go, flushing pale pink in front of the soldier in front of you. The two of you were dressed accordingly to this dark party you were heading to.

“It is. We’re going to some party for the elite in New York that’s Talon-sponsored, and we got you slated with another dancer for a reason.”

“But, Soldier-” you protest weakly as 76 just places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’ll be over fast. Don’t worry.”

Being attracted romantically to your boss was weird for some people, but Soldier 76 had saved you 

You nod, and slip on your lace mask. The mask slipped over your mouth and nostrils. Soldier 76’s mask had been put on before the two of you even stepped on the ship. You were conscious of his eyes on you with your body clad in that stupid leotard and fishnet bodysuit. Your enhanced brain couldn’t help but race through what you thought was what he was thinking about. It was silent as the ship lowered to drop the two of you off, with him helping you off the ship due to your pair of heels.

The two of you stroll to the mansion where this ‘party’ was even being held. “Tracker should be in there already, right?” you ask quietly to the man, and he nods.

“From what she’s texted me, she’s already in there with sight of the data. She’s just waiting for us now.” he responds, and you nod.

“I’ll see you later. I mean, you’ll see me. Hopefully I don’t fuck up.”

“You won’t. I’ll see you later.”

You nod as the two of you step up to the door, with you immediately on Soldier’s arm, clinging on to it as a man answers the door. You fake giggle as Jack makes your introduction, and willingly let yourself be tugged off of his arm to get ready for your set of performances.

It’s a whirlwind of hurried confusion as your think of your two allies out there without you. The woman touching up your heavy makeup slaps you lightly to snap you out of your anxiety. “You’ll do fine,” she reassures, and you nod, smiling nervously.

You hope.

The cape on your shoulders feels heavy as you get ready to step on stage minutes later. The chairs are set up already.

Meanwhile, Soldier gets to stand guard for Tracker, placed in the dark corner of the large room in front of the door to the computers. He’s getting bored, and decides to watch your performance.

He’s seen you move enough to figure out which of the two cloaked figures walking out on the stage is you, with the music already playing. You sit down on the left chair, leaning in and away with the other dancer before the beat pauses.

_[Do you love me?]_

You pull off your hood, revealing your face. You look absolutely dark and seductive as you turn towards the other dancer, pulling off the moves perfectly. Good god, that move where you ripped off each other’s cape? Fucking amazing.

_[Do you need me?]_

The rest of the crowd agrees with his silent admiration as they start to whisper about how amazing this was as your moves are crisp as all hell.

_[Do you want me?]_

Your legs are crossed as you stare at the crowd, smirking slightly. It’s like you know what they all feel. What _he_ feels about you. 

_[Do you love me?]_

It was a fucking shock as the you drop down from your chair in a fluid motion and bounce from one leg to another then raise your hips in the air.

The rest of the performance is a blur as Tracker strolls out with a little bit of blood on her cheek, grinning at Soldier. “She’s pretty hot.” Her voice jolts Soldier out of his hazed daydream. He almost jumps, and Tracker’s laughing. 

“Don’t scare me like that.”

“C’mon, you like her. The dancing is just a plus.” No one in Overwatch could hide anything from Tracker. Tracker was much like the infamous hacker Sombra, but even Tracker had her limits in blackmail and didn’t think it was ethical to do it excessively. 

“Shut up.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch when we get to the safe house.”

“I said _shut up_.”

“I’m just trying to get you and her to fuck. It’s obvious that she’s also interested in you. Anyone can tell. Hell, I think the rest of the agents are betting at this point.”

The unmistakeable red of Soldier 76’s ears make Tracker laugh.  
\----  
After your performance, you step off the stage gracefully with the help of another party goer. You’re greeted by a crowd of the interested guests. Speaking to all of them politely, you pray to god that both Tracker and Soldier were done with the data extraction. A pair of strong arms sneak around your waist from behind, and you lean into the chest of who those arms belong to, grinning from behind your mask.

“We got it. We leave in five.” he mutters, and you chuckle.

“Alright, stay with me then.” you respond quietly as he guides you away from the crowd, giving them an apologetic gesture. He practically drags you into his lap as he sits on a chair. Suppressing your yelp, you automatically wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. “Isn’t this against protocol?” you asks teasingly, and the man just does the same, inhaling your subtle perfume.

“I don’t care anymore.”

“Yeah, whatever, Mister ‘Follow-All-The-Rules’,” you retort. “Not gonna lie, you look fucking hot in your suit right now, 76.”

“Same to you, ________. Fuck, I want to tear your clothes off right here.”

“And do what? Treat me roughly? You know I can take it.”

“You’re in for a fucking ride, sweetheart.”

And you’re satisfied that he kept his promise. Your hips might feel like shit the next morning, Tracker might leak out what the two of you did, and your neck was littered with hickeys, but it was worth it.


End file.
